


Alive With You

by reellifejaneway



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Interrupted Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reellifejaneway/pseuds/reellifejaneway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After witnessing the destruction at Adamant, the Inquisitor takes some time to herself to recuperate. A near-death experience is traumatic enough, but now Delylah Trevelyan realises just how much she needs her Commander — and how much she wants to take their relationship to the next level. But sometimes not even the darkest, most private nooks in Skyhold are private enough…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaosfay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosfay/gifts).



> A two-part gift fic for my dear mischievous friend, in which she entrusts me with writing her Trevelyan’s first time. Be warned, this is NSFW! Read on at your own risk (or feel free to leave feedback over on [Tumblr](http://reellifejaneway2.tumblr.com/post/123797716972/alive-with-you-part-i-nsfw)!) Cullen Rutherford and the wonderful world of Thedas belong to Bioware/EA. Delylah Trevelyan belongs to the wonderful chaosfay. I’m just a fangirl who can’t let go…

“Hey Boss!”

The Inquisitor spun on her heel, sharp eyes instantly seeking out Iron Bull’s towering physique. Even from where she stood in the crowded doorway of the Herald’s Rest, Delylah Trevelyan could make him out at the bar. The Qunari was hemmed in by a cluster of boisterous chargers. Unphased, he simply raised his half-empty flagon above their heads and nodded in her direction. Biting back a laugh, Delylah waved in acknowledgement and began to thread her way through the crowd.

Voices around her rolled into one swell of noise, interspersed with laughter and occasionally the formality of her title. But tonight, Lady Trevelyan simply did not care for her title, nor for her victory at Adamant. It was a hollow one after all. Too many sacrifices — and one loss in particular — summoned an ache she did not dare face. Not now. Tonight, she simply wanted to forget.

And, it would seem, so did the rest of Skyhold’s forces. She passed a trio of soldiers who in turn saluted her with their mugs. Maryden was strumming at her lute calmly — a striking contradiction to the rest of the tavern, who had promptly decided to raise their voices and stamp their feet to an entirely different rhythm.

The Inquisitor shook her head. She knew that song only too well.

“No one can beat the Chargers 'cause we'll hit you where it hurts!”

Nearing the far end of the bar, Delylah could make out Bull’s voice above the din. His flagon took another sweep through the air as he led the company in the hearty chant.

“Unless you know a tavern with loose cards and looser skirts!”

“Ah I love that song,” Iron Bull’s resounding bass shook a little with mirth. Letting out a deep, rumbling chuckle, he glanced sideways at Delylah and beckoned her closer. “Now where were we? Oh right,” he leaned forward in his seat, “the recruit who lost his towel. Tell us again about how he had to dash through the barracks in nothing but—”

“No,” an exasperated bass interrupted then. “I’ve told it twice already.”

This disparagement elicited nothing but a chorus of disappointed groans from the Chargers. Clearly the topic was a popular one tonight. Trevelyan quirked her brow, arching on her toes to try and catch a glimpse of the speaker. She knew that voice.

“Spoilsport,” Krem snorted. “Ruining a perfectly good party.”

“I’m not ruining anything!” The speaker protested. “Maker’s breath, can’t we talk about something else?”

Delylah winked at Iron Bull and cleared her throat. “One of my fondest memories was catching a young Templar running through the apprentices quarters. Tumbled straight out of the shower rooms in a panic, naked as the day he was born.”

That worked. The Chargers erupted in simultaneous exclamations of “It’s the Boss!” “Oh come on!” and “You’re shitting me!” That last one, of course, came from Iron Bull. But it was the sudden appearance of a mop of curly blond hair — and the blushing, indignant face that accompanied it — had Trevelyan giggling like a small girl.

“Really?” Cullen stammered, gawking at her incredulously.

“He was a recruit,” Delylah added, smirking. “One of the other Templars directed him to the mages shower room as a prank. He emerged towel-less — apparently a few of the apprentices liked what they saw a little too much.”

Dalish leaned forward on her elbows. “And?” She arched her brows knowingly.

Delylah shrugged. “It became a ritual among the apprentices to steal the towels from the shower-room every Friday night since.”

Bull gaffawed, shaking his head and saluting her with his tankard. “Ah you always know the best stories, Boss.”

“Get you a drink?” Krem clapped her on the back.

Trevelyan shook her head. “Thanks but not tonight.” Truth be told she was already bone weary. She had come for the company rather than the alcohol — though she might allow them to goad her into some wine later. “In fact, all I need right now is some good company.”

“Ah well that we can provide in abundance,” Dalish spun about on her chair, smirking at the Inquisitor as she reached for the wine bottle, “right boys?”

The Chargers let out a chorus of whoops, knocking tankards most enthusiastically.

“If I might?” Cullen’s voice roused her then. He moved through the group to gently take her arm. “I need to borrow the Inquisitor for a moment.”

The Chargers burst forth with a cacophony of cat-calls as the pair slipped away from the bar, Cullen guiding Delylah toward the tavern stairs. The crowd of patrons parted before them. Cullen’s shoulders were arched, but not from tension or stress. No, tonight he was practically prowling through the room. Something had awakened within him — something dangerous. And Delylah couldn’t help but be drawn to the heat that he radiated.

“Cullen?” She questioned, pausing with her back to the banister. That mischievous glint had returned to her eyes. “What’s the rush?”

The Commander’s eyes burned down into hers, a dark passion shimmering in his gaze even as he appraised her so intimately in front of so many people. The Inquisitor shivered. Arching one arm up to rest on the wooden rail above her head, Cullen leaned in close and nuzzled at her ear. “Follow me and I’ll show you,” he breathed, a rasping gravelly sound that shot straight down to Delylah’s core. Then, he spun away, grasping her hand and tugging her toward the stairs.

She followed in a daze. Her head spun as Cullen pulled her along, drawing her further away from the thrumming music, the happy melody of song.

“Where are you taking me?”

He flashed her a rare, wicked smile. “I discovered something,” he murmured cryptically, turning to guide her up the next flight of stairs. “That when the Bull is buying rounds…” Cullen paused on the landing, leaning down to her and winking roguishly, “…nobody sits on the uppermost level.”

Delylah’s eyes widened. “I’m not completely sure I understand,” she stammered, lifting her long skirts in one hand before she could trip on them.

Cullen simply grinned. It wasn’t his usual restrained smile either, but a mirthful smirk that tugged at his scar, made his eyes sparkle and her knees weaken with want. He paused as they rounded the banister, pulling her into him and nibbling at her ear lobe. “Trust me. You’ll see.”

He pulled her along until he reached a booth in the far corner. Unlike the other tables, these seats were high-backed, padded, almost plush in their comfort and privacy. Here they could sit without fear of being seen. Delylah hadn’t noticed the booths before, or how conveniently obscured they were from public view. But then, she’d never been dragged upstairs by her commander before either — until now.

She could only imagine the mayhem his display was sparking among the crowd downstairs! Oh the rumours…

Trevelyan was startled to feel Cullen’s breath hot against her throat. She spun to find him standing tantalisingly close, his cheeks glowing with a youthful exuberance she had only seen when they had kissed each other senseless. Her mind flashed with images: sensations of grinding and whimpering in the dark, limbs intertwined as they had made out in the secluded corner of the—

“Would my lady like a seat?” Cullen smiled and held out a hand to her in offering.

Delylah cocked her brow, hitching her skirts as she sidled out of reach in the corner of the booth. “What has gotten into you tonight?” Alcohol perhaps? But then, he didn’t smell of ale as much as he did soap, manly musk, leather and…

_Oh._

Cullen followed her, practically undressing her with his eyes. “Do you remember that night in the library?” He hummed softly. It was almost as if he had read her mind, the alluring depth in his voice racking her body with shivers.

How could she forget? Delylah’s toes curled in her fine sandals, her fingers driving into the cushion beneath her as she slowly edged away from that consuming gaze. That had been the night she’d confessed to him that she was a virgin. Coincidentally, that had been the night when he had introduced her to the beginnings of sensual delights…

She shivered as she felt the ghost of his touch along her thighs. They had yet to fully explore each other. Cullen had been patient with her for weeks now, preparing her slowly. And yet, Delylah knew they both longed to go further. That night in the library, just hours before their departure for Adamant, had been the first true manifestation of months of yearning. The air electrified around them both now; the barely-restrained hunger that shone so visibly in his eyes crawling through her skin and bombarding her with need…

Trevelyan bit her lip, suddenly realising his intent. Her heart raced, exhilarated at the possibilities. “Cullen—”

His shoulders flexed beneath his tunic, those amber eyes haunted with desire. “Tell me what you want, Delylah.” Cullen leaned into the chair, one palm resting just beside her hip.

But he need not have asked. Not truly. For she already knew the answer…

Delylah wanted to peel that damned, teasing tunic off his glorious shoulders and caress each trembling sinewy inch of his flesh with her fingertips. She wanted to be stripped and adored and kissed until her knees weakened in his embrace. She wanted him to throw her down upon his bed and take her thoroughly, until her vision swam from the sheer force of his passion. She longed for him to send her spiralling, falling, flying all at once — Maker but she wanted all conscious thought to be torn apart in the most delicious way possible. Delylah hesitated, her lips tingling at the mere thought of him kissing her until she could barely think let alone breathe. She wanted…  _Maker_ did she want!

She struggled with herself for a long moment. He was so close now that she could feel his breath on her cheek. And yet, he held back, searching her eyes for any sign that she wanted him as badly as he did her.

“Cullen…” Delylah whispered, reaching out to sweep her thumb across his stubble-covered chin. “Kiss me.”

His acknowledgement came in the form of a rush of breath, descending upon her with a swiftness that was both overwhelming and alluring. Those strong arms caught her up with ease, gently easing her back into the booth so that her back was pressed firmly against the wall. The cool of the wood at her spine, the heat of the man pinning her in, was such a delicious contrast that her head spun.

This was better than anything she’d imagined and they’d barely begun. But Delylah knew that when it came to loving Cullen, he only seemed to improve with each endeavour.

He didn’t kiss her hard. No, he knew better. His lips were enticingly soft against hers, pleading with every feathering dip and caress until she couldn’t help but let her mouth fall open in desperation. Cullen’s fingertips traced her cheekbones, holding her only very lightly as he barraged her senses with kisses both painfully light and fervent. Between each touch, she thought she could hear her name being whispered, gasped, murmured and praised upon each exhale. It made her shiver and melt together. Until she had met Cullen, she had never known intimacy. Now he was teaching her exactly how she ought to be worshipped — with every pleading word, every sweeping caress, each tender press of trembling, desirous lips.

Her name was a hymn and oh how gloriously Cullen sang it.

Delylah was suddenly grateful he had chosen to have them seated, for now her knees were trembling. One of his hands dropped from her cheek then. A warm palm slid down her shoulder, sending tremors of need through each and every one of the nerve endings that tingled beneath the surface of her too-tight skin. Down her waist, skimming her hip and coming to rest on her thigh…

He broke the kiss, pressing his lips against her throat and humming against it. “Tell me what you want.”

She could feel her cheeks burning but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Delylah knew what she wanted.  _Make me forget about the world for a little while._

“Teach me,” she whispered.

Cullen’s eyes widened. “Teach you…?”

She let her hand fall to where his rested upon her knee. With trembling fingers, she guided his up her leg, sliding aside her light dress as she went. Watching enraptured as Cullen’s pupils grew dark with lust, she leaned forward and murmured against his ear, “Teach me.”

His breath caught in his throat, his gaze darkening with understanding. “Are you sure?” He rasped.

“ _Please_ , Cullen. I want you.”

If she had intended to say more, Delylah never got the opportunity.

Cullen’s presence seemed to fill every one of her senses. He loomed over her, his broad shoulders shutting out the tavern beyond. Strong hands clasped her by the waist and eased her onto his lap, drawing her skirts away just enough so that her gloriously bare bronze legs could rest comfortably on either side of his hips. Cullen’s palms grazed along the outer curve of her thighs and Delylah shifted closer, pressing her body tightly to his as they kissed again. She sighed into his mouth at the warmth. His thighs were strong; each movement making the muscles flex and ripple beneath her hips and encouraging her to lean into his chest. The sensation was heavenly, coaxing her need into intense, burning arousal. Her stomach fluttered in delight.

Trevelyan knew she was making noise — a somewhat anomalous inclination on her part — but she could barely focus, let alone bite the sounds back. Even the knowledge that they were still technically in public didn’t make her want to stop.

_I want you._

Kisses alone were no longer enough to satisfy her. Delylah let out a needy whine, rocking her hips against Cullen’s insistently. He was already erect; she could feel him throbbing with every roll of her body against his…

Cullen wouldn’t rush her, but Maker take him, why wasn’t he touching her?

“Please…” Delylah entreated, relishing in the huff of laughter that fell from his lips.

“Patience, my love.”

His words were tortured, strained — for Cullen’s traitorous body was screaming out for satisfaction even as his mind struggled to maintain a slower pace. His pupils were so dilated that his gold irises were little more than a fiery sliver. He was taking his time for her sake. She knew that it was testing his control to the limits, and oh how she loved him for his caring spirit! After weeks of exploring each other, she wanted nothing more than to take that final step with him, and she knew that well-tempered warrior’s resolve would only sweeten the reward when they did.

Delylah was vaguely aware of Cullen shifting beneath her. He tilted his head to suckle at her chin, but it was the hand sliding between her thighs that made her moan, arching into him desperately. A flood of need made her quiver, the wetness gathering in her smalls only intensifying the acute emptiness, the throbbing clench of unfulfilled need. Calloused fingertips dragged along her smalls. Questing, teasing, travelling the length of her slit and pressing into the damp fabric there.

“Ohh…” She let her instincts take over, her heart palpitating with each teasing stroke. “Cullen—”

“Shh, they’ll hear.” He silenced her with another searing kiss.

Delylah let her eyes drift shut beneath the twin sensations, grinding against his hand as best she could while being so thoroughly kissed. He pinned her in with his arms, his own breathing laboured. She knew with every movement of her hips, Cullen was growing harder, his need yielding only to his will.

She wondered how long they could manage to remain concealed in this booth. And then she began to imagine just much teasing Cullen could take, how valiantly her Commander would fight his own urges before he would give in…

Her mind instantly flashed with images of his face the last time she’d been with him. His eyes widening as she’d sunk down on her knees before him, taking him with her mouth. Cullen’s stoic demeanour had shattered almost instantly. And oh, what a beautiful sight he was to behold! His head thrown back, hair dishevelled, one hand clawing helplessly at the wall while the other tangled in her crimson locks, his mouth falling open as he’d panted, groaned, begged… The look of sheer rapture as he’d finally come apart, howling her name to the rafters…

But that thought was quickly swept away. Cullen’s strong fingers edged along her smalls, easing the moist fabric to the side and dipping into her heat.

Delylah mewled, clutching at his shoulders as Cullen repeated the action. Sliding between her folds, parting her deftly and tenderly, spreading her slick arousal up to her clit — where he lingered.

“Cullen!” She pleaded, struggling not to cry out.

It was almost too much already and he’d only just begun. Heat sprung from where he touched, shooting through her veins and igniting her core in a star-burst of pleasure. Her thighs clenched around his hips. Those talented fingers toyed, circling her pearl with such confident delicacy that her vision erupted with sparks of colour.

Smooth, confident, gliding back and forth. Delylah moaned as paroxysms shot from between her legs and racked through her body. She dug her nails into the lithe muscles of his back. Goosebumps erupted across her flesh and she writhed in his lap.

_More… More… Oh please just there, Cullen…_

Cullen smirked against her neck.

His thumb continued to work her even as one finger turned and slipped against her entrance, gently curling inside her. Delylah nearly sobbed as a second joined it. He worked her meticulously, building a rigorous tempo of thrusts. One knuckle deep… two knuckles… Her body stretched in acceptance, his movements always dancing along that fine line between pain and exquisite pleasure. Beyond the white noise and their intermingled heavy breathing, Delylah could distinguish the sound of the faint, wet slide of Cullen’s fingers delving deeper and deeper…

She felt as though she was riding the current of a storm. With every crook of his hand, every hot exhale on her throat, every blissful spasm, she was carried higher and higher into bliss. The whirling torrent grew with each pass of his thumb over her nub, each flex of his fingers curling and hitting that spot hidden away within her…

“Yes, that’s it…” Cullen all but moaned in her ear, his own eyes heavy with lust at her display. “Come for me, Delylah…”

Bucking, groaning against him wantonly — Delylah felt as though she was about to be torn free of her skin altogether. The pleasure was so intensely perfect. Soaring higher and higher, so close…

_So close…_

“Hey Boss, there you are. The Seeker sent me to fetch the commander here—oh.”

The words had barely left the Iron Bull’s mouth before Cullen had frozen in his seat. Delylah gasped and curled into his chest defensively, her head spinning in horror and unfulfilled desire.

_NO!_

Her protest was unheard. The air had barely reached Delylah’s lungs for the shock, and though her lips tried desperately to form the words, the panic took hold long before they could be articulated. Embarrassment flooded her, burning and scorching her skin despite the long skirts that barely hid her from view. This was scandalous. She hadn’t dreamed they would actually be interrupted like this.

Cullen quickly wrapped his arms around her, the bulk of his shoulders shielding Delylah’s vulnerability.

“What is it?” He snapped breathlessly.

The Iron Bull was trying his utmost not to smile, turning away to allow the couple some meagre form of privacy. “I uh, I was asked to inform you, Commander, that Seeker Pentaghast wishes to speak with you in the war room.”

“Now?” Cullen all but exploded at that piece of news.

“Sorry, uh, she said it was urgent.”

Cullen’s shoulders arched in warning, but just then Delylah’s hand came up to rest reassuringly on his chest. Glancing down, he discovered that she was smiling sympathetically.

She pressed a light kiss to his sweat-dampened tunic, feeling his heartbeat fluttering against her lips. “It’s alright,” Delylah whispered shakily. She pushed herself upright and straightened her skirts. “Go and attend the meeting. It must be important for Cassandra to be calling you so late.” She amazed herself at just how even her voice sounded.

Iron Bull, meanwhile, had apparently found a notch on the hand-railing to study.

Trevelyan watched enraptured as Cullen’s chest heaved. Pent up frustration and despair alike flitted across his features before being replaced by that ever-calm steel facade. Turning to the Iron Bull he murmured, “Please tell Seeker Pentaghast that I’ll be down in a moment.”

“Right.”

No sooner had the Qunari departed then Cullen had cupped Delylah’s blushing cheek, turning her face up to meet his in a passionate kiss. His lips claimed hers so perfectly that once again she was left completely overcome. She struggled to ignore the flood of need, the pulsing desire she was squeezing her thighs in an attempt to satisfy. Delylah was sure she looked positively dishevelled, scrambling to regain her senses the moment he released her.

But Cullen didn’t let go of her hand. For a long moment they paused, clinging to each other at an arm’s length even as he stepped out of the booth.

“Wait for me?” he rasped.

Delylah’s knees weakened at the need in his voice, the love that melted his amber eyes into pure gold. She managed a weak nod.

Cullen’s face broke into a genuine smile. He lifted her fingers to his lips, kissed them tenderly, and then before he could rethink his decision, turned and stumbled toward the stairs. Delylah watched him go. Her own lips curled in amusement as he shrugged his fur-lined mantle on over his clothes, conveniently hiding the tell-tale bulge in his breeches.

And then he was gone.

With a disappointed sigh, she collapsed back against the cushions. That had not been how she had envisioned this night at all. Of course she would wait for him. But first the Inquisitor would have to catch her breath and calm the trembling in her legs before she braved the walk back to her quarters. She wouldn’t have the whole of Skyhold whispering about their brazenness! Silently she cursed Cassandra’s sense of timing. Maker take it all, how many hours would she have to endure before Cullen would be free to return to her?

Staring up at the ceiling, Delylah forced herself to take deep, calming breaths — and not to focus on the deep, carnal ache that remained so tortuously unfulfilled… 


End file.
